


Found Broken

by Hammocker



Series: Everybody Hates Will (Will has Cats AU) [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breakfast, Cats, Everybody Hates Will, M/M, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 01, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pleasant company was unheard of in Will's home. He almost would have preferred more hooligans with cats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Found Broken

**Author's Note:**

> While this piece can be read on its own, it will likely be a bit confusing in one element. I recommend going and reading the first piece in this series first. Or you can not too. Your personal choices are not my business.

Will had just put down the last plate of food for his cats when there was a knock on the door. He froze at the noise. No one ever visited and vagrants usually only left things on his doorstep at night. Had they gotten braver? He really hoped not; Will couldn’t afford to run to anywhere more remote.

He stepped out into the hall and padded towards the entrance-way, slow as he could manage. Whatever horrors awaited him, Will did not want to face them immediately. But still, he reached the door sooner than he would have liked. He unbolted it, turned the knob, and opened it.

Will was met with a sight he hadn’t experienced in a long while: a man was standing on his porch, gaze boring through him. He wore a suit, much too nice to fit in with the rural setting, and held a plastic container. His features were sharp and striking, fixed into a frown of seeming condescension. As though he was constantly disgusted by the world around him. Maybe it was just his own inhibitions, but Will was suddenly even more on edge. And it was only then that Will realized he hadn’t bothered to put on more substantial clothing.

“Can I help you?” Will said, his voice small. He could barely look at his visitor.

“Will Graham?” the man said. He sounded like he had some kind of Eastern European accent. Maybe. Not like Will knew much about accents. It might have just been a bit of a lisp.

“That’s- what I’m called.”

“My name is Hannibal Lecter. Certain friends of mine have mentioned you.”

“Must have been another Will Graham,” Will said, shaking his head. “No one talks about me.”

“Unless there happens to be another Will Graham living on a large plot of land by himself in Wolf Trap, I’m certain I’ve made no mistake.”

“Yeah. Guess you wouldn’t have. But why are you here?”

“Curiosity can drive men to do many things. I was curious about the nature of this strange, lonely man whom Alana has mentioned to me.”

“She’s mentioned me?” Will asked, half-hopeful.

“Yes. I believe she considers your abilities valuable, though, her personal opinions of you may not be so favorable.”

Will ignored the pang of disappointment in his chest.

“What does she tell you exactly?” he asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d much rather we talk about this over breakfast.”

“Breakfast? You-?” Will glanced down at the tupperware Hannibal held. “Just- just come in.”

He stepped back and out of Hannibal’s way, still working to comprehend that there was another, non-hostile human being in his home.

Hannibal strode into the house, taking the time to gently shut the door behind him. Will should have done that, he realized. He hoped Hannibal wouldn’t take it personally.

“Where do you keep your plates?” Hannibal asked, fixing him with his commanding stare once more.

“I-” Will couldn’t hold Hannibal’s gaze and had to duck his head. “The kitchen. This way.”

Will turned and headed for the kitchen, a little too fast to be nonchalant. He wanted to look back to make sure Hannibal was following, but at the same time, he was afraid Hannibal might not be there if he did. Better to keep it ambiguous as long as he could.

As soon as he was in the kitchen, Will went straight for his dish cabinet. Plenty of plates, at least, plates he had deemed untainted by cat use anyway. He pulled a couple of plates out before finally looking to his left. Hannibal had stepped up to the counter and stood just shy of being shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Will didn’t completely freeze at the sight this time, so that was an improvement at least.

“Allow me,” he said, regarding the plates.

Will edged away to give Hannibal space and very nearly tripped over a small, fuzzy object. He glanced down only to find one of his cats scampering away. He’d forgotten that they might still be skulking about. Not to mention that there were still messy plates on the floor. Will hoped Hannibal wouldn’t mind too much or, better yet, wouldn’t notice.

Making himself useful, Will slid open a nearby drawer and retrieved a pair of forks and knives. He thought about grabbing spoons too, but figured that that might be excessive. He set the pairs down across from each other on the kitchen table and sat. Almost as soon as he had, Hannibal turned and placed the two plates, now laden with food, down before sitting himself.

Will didn’t know what it was exactly. Greens, scrambled eggs covered in a red-brown spice, some kind of sausage. It smelled incredible, whatever it was, and brought a color to his senses that he had forgotten he could experience. He wondered if it was poisoned.

“Bon appétit,” Hannibal said, his stare tinted with expectancy.

Will supposed that meant “go ahead.” He hardly even knew where to begin, but he forced himself to pick up his fork and cautiously skewering a hunk of eggs. It was the closest thing to familiarity in front of him. He brought it to his mouth and closed his lips around it. As soon as it landed on his tongue, Will had to cover his mouth to keep from coughing and then to keep from moaning. It was a wonderful piece of dissonance. The flavor was magnificent, but even the mild spice was a shock after years of eating little more than bland, often very dry meals. The eggs were savory, pleasantly warm, lighting up his taste buds in all the right ways. Nothing at all like anything Will had ever made. If the eggs were this good, Will couldn’t wait to try the sausage.

His eyes landed briefly on Hannibal and Will could swear he caught the slightest upturn of a corner of his mouth. He had begun to eat as well, apparently unfazed at both the spice and quality of the food if his steady pace and unmoved expression was any indicator. Hannibal must have eaten like this all the time, Will realized, and if the tupperware was anything to go by, it was home cooked. He felt a pang of envy, and disappointment at the high chance that this would be the only proper meal he would get for a long time. He pushed both feelings away. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this and Hannibal had every right to distance himself just like everyone else. Will would move along as he always had once Hannibal was gone. He would be grateful for what he was given while he still had it and that was that.

Before either of them could get further into their food, however, a short meow came from the floor and Hannibal stopped to look down at his lap.

“And who is this?” Hannibal asked.

Will hesitated before leaning over to find a puffy tail draped over the side of Hannibal’s leg. Definitely Mittens, but she wouldn’t have been caught dead sitting on anyone, Will had thought.

“That’s- Mittens. You’re sitting on her chair.”

“She seems to think I make an acceptable substitute. I suppose I should be honored.”

“Why’s that?” Will asked, stealing a bite of eggs as he finished the question.

“It’s not every day a lady comes by and decides to sit in one’s lap.”

Will gave an uncomfortable laugh, shaking his head. “Mittens- Mittens is a lot of things, but she is not a lady.”

“What would you call her?”

“A-” Will had a harsh word on his tongue, but it being both crude and technically inaccurate, he decided to save it for another day. “-cat.” 

Hannibal nodded with complacency. “Indeed she is.”

They ate silently then. Will found himself particularly intrigued by the way Hannibal was eating. Every bite was deliberate, his chewing slow, but not sluggish. His eyes were hooded. It made Will feel like a slob in comparison, practically wolfing down whatever he could get his fork into. He was just so damn hungry and he hadn’t even realized it. It felt like a fog was clearing with every swallow.

Not clear enough to notice Hannibal softly speaking his name the first time, it seemed.

“Will.”

Or the second time.

“Will.”

He was chewing part of a sausage, savoring the juices flowing down his throat.

“ _Will_.”

His name, a little harsher and drawn out, finally got him to raise his head and look at Hannibal. He couldn’t resist darting his tongue out to catch a stray speck of egg that hadn’t quite made it into his mouth.

“I wanted to ask if you might be willing to hold a session with me,” Hannibal said, still only halfway through his food.

“A session?” Will echoed. He still wasn't quite sated and Hannibal’s words weren’t as clear to him.

“Forgive me, Will, I’ve failed to adequately explain myself so far. I came here in the hope I might feel compelled to invite you to my home for at least one psychotherapeutic session. I find myself very much compelled to do so now.”

“Therapy? You want to do- therapy with me?” Will had never considered the idea of seeking help from a shrink.

“Yes. Regularly, should you find it helpful.”

“Do you think I need it?” Will asked, eyes drifting away from Hannibal once more.

“Perhaps. I’m concerned at the level of isolation you’ve imposed upon yourself.”

“Imposed upon my-?” Will coughed out a laugh. “Doctor Lecter, I’m not living out here because I enjoy being isolated. I don’t have no friends out of choice. People, they just-”

Will stopped. He would probably sound delusional if he tried to explain.

“Go on, Will,” Hannibal prompted.

Taking a breath, Will continued.

“I’ve had rocks thrown at me in the street, Doctor Lecter. People I don’t even know. They see my face and- hate me, I guess. Even people who put up with me don’t like me, you know that already. Alana, Jack, they tolerate me. Pity me, maybe.”

“How long have you experienced this?” Hannibal asked, maintaining his composure completely.

“I don’t know since- since I finished college, maybe. Some people seemed to like me before then. I think.”

“Strange. Strange, indeed,” Hannibal said, eyes narrowing for just a second. “Nonetheless, I would still like to have you in for a session.”

“I really don’t think I can afford what you’re offering.”

“You are employed by the FBI. Any cost I may ask is already covered, theoretically. I'll have a word with Jack, if that concerns you.”

Will considered for a second. He really had no reason to say no. Money wasn’t an issue, his schedule probably wouldn’t be an issue, all that he had in his way was his own inhibitions around people. He didn’t really want to talk to anyone at all anymore; Will was used to being left to rot on his own. But then, if Hannibal was the only potential out from living and dying as the cat hoarding hermit who no one even cared to notice, then so be it.

“Okay. When?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal is a weird character to write. He's very flat on the surface and his dialogue is formal, but also sometimes not completely formal.
> 
> If you have any critiques, thoughts, corrections, or whatever, I do appreciate comments. I enjoy being able to make my fics less bad where I can, but I do tend to miss things.


End file.
